


Promise You'll Stay With Me?

by Calon



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Disregard for mental health issues, Explicit Language, Fluff and Angst, I Tried, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Labarge is a bully, Love, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Oh god, Prompt Fill, Protective Athos, TW- Bipolar, TW- Selfharm, TW- Suicide Attempt, happy endings, help me, kinkmeme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 23:57:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5517890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calon/pseuds/Calon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a fill from Elenduen's terrific d'Artagnan whump site, which I recommend you all visit!</p><p>'d'Artagnan has Bipolar? Maybe Athos/d'Atagnan with whump. Thank You XXXX'</p><p>Hope you enjoy!<br/>xxx</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promise You'll Stay With Me?

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!  
> Thought I'd give you all a Christmas treat since I'm feeling nice! Hahaha! So sorry I've been gone so long! But here I am! This story is a little dark and I'd advise you not to read it if you are sensitive to self harm, suicide attempts and mental health issues. It's quite upsetting so please be careful. This fill was quite hard for me to write as someone I hold very close had Bipolar Type 1 disorder and is unfortuantely no longer with us. I'm only telling you this so you know I fully understand how difficult surviving with Bipolar can be and that if you find it offensive or too upsetting I will willingly listen to your comments and/or take the story down. If you ever consider self harm or suicide please contact this number immediately:  
> USA:1-800-273-TALK  
> UK: 0800-068-41-41  
> Thank you!  
> And I hope you enjoy!  
> All my love,  
> Calon.  
> xxx

**Present Time.**

Soft, shuddering beeps from the machine d'Artagnan was hooked up to were the only signs of life that kept Athos' heart from snapping in two.

Those fetal, weak shrieks made by some piece of high tech-crap being the only proof that his heart still pumped blood around his body and his lungs still sucked in air.

The older man watched as d'Artagnan's sweat drenched forehead creased and a hollow moan rattled from his lungs. The too bright hospital lights, eggshell walls, devoid atmosphere and the stench of something vaguely...'ill'... all proving to be a little too much for Athos.

Swiping gingerly at his face to prevent tears from escaping his eyes, he watched heartbrokenly as another shuddering breath was draw into the Gascons lungs.

And Athos' shaking hand curled tightly around d'Artagnan's deathly pale one.

_How had it come to this?_

***

**24 Hours Earlier.**

Athos slowly cracked his eyes open, peeping over d'Artagnan's mop of dark hair at the alarm clock.

6:30 A.M.

Sighing softly, Athos nestled himself back down into the sheets, relishing in the two peaceful minutes he had before d'Artagnan jolted awake and found himself across the room, yelling at Athos for making them late.

Athos smiled to himself, watching as d'Artagnan mumbled something his breath and rubbed his face endearingly against the older man's chest, counting down the seconds to when the room breaks out into utter chaos thanks to Athos' 'you're-going-to-get-us-fired-you-noble-piece-of-shit' phase he was currently going through, to which d'Artagnan prayed would pass soon.

Stroking a hand through the Gascons hair, Athos pulled the other man even closer, watching as the sun began to awaken from behind their dreary curtains.

Speaking of ' _awakening_ '...

d'Artagnan garbled something in Gascon, nudged closer to Athos, then paused.

Athos held his breath.

And with that the boy's eyes shot open and Athos reached for his rosary beads.

Flying out of bed, d'Artagnan leapt across the room as the older musketeer sunk down into the duvet, his eyes peeping over the cool white material, working the innocent look perfectly.

"Treville's gonna kill us!" d'Artagnan squeaked, pulling in his trousers before collapsing to the floor as he hopped around trying to get his shoes on. "We're all doomed!" He groaned dramatically, flinging his arms up in the air to elaborate his distress, which just made Athos grin as he saw two bedraggled arms swinging at the end of the bed before a disgruntled d'Artagnan sprung back up.

Athos chuckled, his joy quickly turning into horror as d'Artagnan ripped the blankets off the bed and began battering his chilled body with pillows whilst yelling...affectionate obscenities…

"Okay, okay!" Athos surrendered, raising his hands up in a desperate plea for mercy as his side's ached far too much from laughing it was borderline agony. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

d'Artagnan humphed something under his breath and reluctantly backed away, returning to stressing over how late they were.

Athos grinned again, stalking up behind d'Artagnan and wrapping his arms around the Gascons chest from behind, peppering kisses at the back of his neck and smiling at how the tension seemed to bleed out of the younger man. "We're only supposed to be in by seven." He mumbled. "Plenty of time."

d'Artagnan sighed and leant back against Athos' chest, a soft smile playing in his lips.

Athos winced slightly before raising his voice a couple of octaves and raising his eyebrows pathetically. "Come back to bed for a while?"

d'Artagnan spun around beaming before dramatically sighing.

"Well, if you insist..."

***

**2 Hours Later.**

"I can't believe you!" Treville seethed, his fingernails digging into his precious desk and making d'Artagnan both cringe and quake with fear. "I said you had to be in by seven, which may I remind you is two hours later than everybody else! And still you abuse my role as your captain!"

Athos drew himself up a little and switched to hsi 'Comte-mode' which seemed to always dissolve the situation and make d'Artagnan feel a little hot under the collar...and waistband…

"My apologies, Captain." Athos drawled, stepping forwards slightly and reaching out his hands beseechingly. "It was-"

"My fault, sir." d'Artagnan cut in, shooting Athos a warning glare. "I made the same mistake of trying to match Porthos drink for drink last night...it wasn't a pretty sight..."

Treville glared pointedly at d'Artagnan before grunting heavily and stepping from behind his desk. "Don't let it happen again, understand?"

d'Artagnan nodded abruptly, internally concealing the fact he was warmed by the Captain's father like treatment towards him.

Nodding with a soft smile, d'Artagnan took his leave sharing a quick triumphant glance with Athos as they parted the office.

Once out, the pair were immediately greeted by Porthos and Aramis who both waggled their eyebrows suggestively. "Lie in again?" Aramis grinned fiendishly with an obvious glint to his eyes, only to gain a sharp knee to the groin from Athos who was more than a little amused by the sharpshooters wit and continued on his way to his own private office. d'Artagnan following him silently.

"You okay?" Athos asked the Gascon as the boy collected his work files from Athos' main desk about their most recent criminal triumph in the court.

d'Artagnan nodded unconvincingly and Athos sighed.

"Something's been bothering you for a while now...ever since we closed the last case you've been acting odd...quiet even..." The older musketeer said worriedly, questioning to broach the subject of his medication- Only he couldn't do that- Of course not, their relationship was based on trust and d'Artagnan was coping... _wasn't he?_

Athos sighed.

Ever since a very young age, following the painful death of his mother and older brother, d'Artagnan had suffered from bouts of depression which his father, Alexander, had aided him through, helped him regain control. Things had been looking up for the Gascon and he and his father had set out to Paris in search of better paid work when the older man had been shot and killed on the outskirts of the city and died in his son's arms.

As one can imagine, this tragedy sent d'Artagnan tumbling back into depression which further spiralled into something more when his home in Gascony was burnt to the ground and all his belongings and money lost.

So the boy set out for revenge and amidst this revenge fueled haze, he met the three Inseparables. And then, of course, fell in love with their leader.

It was in the weeks following the arrest of his Father's murderer, Gaudet, that the aftermath of guilt and agonizing sorrow tore through d'Artagnan and he nearly lost all sense of hope.

Only to be saved by Athos and given a name for his 'condition'. And that name was 'Bipolar.' Said word held so many meanings in d'Artagnan's mind;

_Joy,_

_Pain,_

_Happiness,_

_Sadness,_

_Freedom,_

_Destruction,_

_Love,_

_Heartbreak,_

And they were all intertwined.

All together, never apart.

Just like him and his three brothers.

And all these feelings seemed to suffocate him sometimes, to drag him down or set him free. There was no inbetween.

But Athos, in between this mess of emotions and complications, had caught glimpses of the d'Artagnan underneath and he had fallen in love. So he began to stitch d'Artagnan back together. Clear that fog of despair and stick all his broken pieces back together. Make him whole.

And in time, d'Artagnan began to return the favour.

As the young boy bloomed into a man and began leaping through the Musketeer Secret Service ranks, he found a new kind of solace a new kind of peace. And for the first time in months he felt a sense of equilibrium that he hadn't felt in a long time.

He felt he _belonged_.

Well, that was until Labarge appeared…

"Is it true you're fucked in the head?" The larger man snarled in d'Artagnan's ear. They'd begun early morning combat training when Treville had introduced their newest trainer without even hiding his disdain. d'Artagnan hadn't been phased at first. Not until, Labarge had begun abusing him each and every day. Being tactile enough to avoid it being too obvious. Yet d'Artagnan still went home with bruises. "That you're on fuck loads of meds to keep you from doin' somethin' stupid?"

d'Artagnan clenched his fists and waited for the physical assault.

Only this time, it didn't come.

"I bet Athos is only wit' ya cause he pities you...that's probably why you're not a proper musketeer yet...yer just keepin' his bed warm..." He laughed menacingly, pressing d'Artagnan against the wall. "You're not good enough, yer hear me? You're a fuckin' lunatic who's hooked on a bunch of meds and nobody wants yer. You're a failure. Dependant on pills and not capable of being a soldier like us. Not worthy."

The words bounced around d'Artagnan's brain for weeks. His mind tormented by the large man's words and his bruised body aching constantly.

_You're not worthy._

_You're dependant on others._

_You're unpredictable._

_You are a liability._

And Labarge was right.

Who would employ him? Who would want him? And who...who would love him?

For weeks d'Artagnan put up a facade that everything was fine, lied to Athos' face, hid his scars, fought every episode, and slowly weaned himself off his meds.

Turning to his boyfriend, d'Artagnan hid himself away, once again.

"Everything's fine, 'Thos." He smiled, drawing himself from his current misery.

Everything was under control.

Of course he'd been feeling the swings of mood...but they most definitely were not as intense.

Without a doubt.

He _could_ do this.

Athos huffed out a sigh and moved forwards, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him close, their foreheads pressed together. d'Artagnan closed his eyes. "If you say so." The older man grumbled, closing his eyes too.

"I promise. I'm fine." d'Artagnan whispered back, stroking his thumb against the man's stubbled jaw, before he pulled away. "Now, get to work, Treville has already got us on a warning, even after we closed the whole 'Maria Bonnaire and her oaf of a husband's trade ring' case." 

Athos grinned before nodding and ushering the boy out.

"There's a celebration tonight." The Gascon managed to explain as he left. "I'll meet you there."

***

**7 Hours Later.**

Athos groaned and massage the point at the back of his neck that has been radiating aches, pains and cramps all day long...well at least since d'Artagnan had gone…

Sighing deeply and shuffling the final case papers together, Athos pushed from his chair and made for the door, switching the lights off as he went.

Already he could hear the faint sound of music emanating from the main hall, no doubt Aramis had raided the party and chosen his own music before kidnapping the DJ and claiming the role for himself...at everyone's expense.

Athos huffed out a laugh before making his way to the hall entrance for their monthly 'All Cases Closed' work bash. Giddily excited for meeting d'Artagnan there.

However, he barely reached the double doors before they flew open and a slightly bedraggled Aramis bumped into him.

"Athos!" The Spaniard gasped. "I've been looking all over for you! Where were you?"

"Why? The older musketeer asked, frowning as he caught Aramis by his wrists. "Is something wrong?"

Aramis nodded quickly and Athos felt as if a cold stone had been dropped in his stomach. "What?" He asked suddenly, panic seeping into his veins like thick, hot ink. 

Aramis sucked in a shaky breath and upon feeling Porthos approach them opened his mouth.

"There's something up with d'Art." He said chewing his lip nervously.

“What?” Athos asked urgently, clasping his friends arms tightly. “Please, Aramis. What is it?!”

Sighing Aramis pulled Athos away from the doorway. “He’s been acting odd. Sometimes he’s distant, sometimes he’s.. I dont know...himself? Lively...awake...God, it’s hard to explain…” 

Porthos hummed with a frown. “Yeah, ‘Mis is right. But recently it’s been worse. I overheard a couple of the new recruits talkin’ in the staff room...they said Labrage has been givin’ the lad a hard time...that it’s wrong that he’s been tellin’ them ‘bout d’Art’s past.” The large man’s voice dropped several notes when mentioning Labarge’s mistreatment.

Athos’ throat ran dry. “What?” He gasped. “Where is he now?”

Aramis puffed a breath through his nose and clenched his jaw. “He left about an hour ago...he wasn't making much sense…”

“Shit!” Athos hissed. “We need to find him, now!”

***

Athos’ heart was thumping wildly in his chest as his trembling hand forced open the door to his apartments, which were eerily dark and silent.

He swallowed thickly, Porthos and Aramis’ steady presence keeping him grounded. “d’Artagnan?” He called across the abyss that now felt unfamiliar to him. “d’Artagnan?”

The silence that answered him scared him more than he’d ever admit.

Rushing through, Athos made his way to the bathroom door and pressed his ear against it. Soft sobs echoed through the wood and Athos’ heart clenched. “d'Artagnan? Open the door for me baby.” He called softly, trying desperately to force open the door “d’Artagnan please!”

_No reply._

Porthos moved forwards, moving Athos aside. Readying himself with his shoulder aimed at the center of the door he surged forwards and slammed the door open. Revealing the horrors that lay behind it.

“d’Artagnan!” Athos cried as his eyes settled on the boy. His head dipped low and body pressed up against the bath. In his right bloodied arm was a knife which he was digging into the flesh of his wrist, a crimson pool of blood dripping from his hands and onto the floor.

Bleary, empty eyes peered up at the three men and he frowned, his brain addled by blood loss. “Athos?” He whispered on a breath.

The man in question moved slowly towards the Gascon, keeping low to the ground as Porthos and Aramis tried feebly to sprint for the telephone to call an ambulance and warn Treville.

“Yeah, it's me, d’Art.” He said softly, creeping forwards still,his eyes fixated on the blade hovering dangerously over d’Artagnan major blood vessels.

As if sensing Athos’ intentions, d’Artagnan made a move to force the blade deeper this time under his skin. To end it all. However, Athos was too quick. Lurching forwards, Athos grasped hold of d’Artagnan and caused him to drop the blade, pulling him tightly into his arms.

Screaming out at the injustice, d’Artagnan began thrashing against Athos, tears slipping down his face. “Let me go! Let me die! Athos! Please! I wanna die!” 

But Athos held steady, he’d seen d’Artagnan like this before, desperate for death, suffocated by sorrow. Hopeless. Keeping his hands pressed against the Gascons wrists, Athos began stemming the flow of blood.

And eventually d’Artagnan grew weaker in his arms and turn his sobs to Athos, leaning against the man's neck. “M’so sorry...so s’rry…”

Athos hummed quietly and pulled d’Artagnan close as the paramedics rushed in.

Everything was a blur after that.

***

**Present Time.**

Wiping his eyes, Athos relayed the facts.

d’Artagnan had stopped taking his meds due to constant abuse coming from Labarge.

His mind won't let him continue.

Dropping his head against the bed covers and resting the top of his head against d’Artagnan’s bandaged arm.

He sobbed, sobbed so hard his chest ached, so hard that his throat burned, his eyes stung and the emptiness spread through his bones and sleep took hold. 

Athos sighed warmly as he slowly rose back to consciousness to the comforting sensation of a hand stroking through his hair. Rubbing against the hand he relaxed and made to drift back to sleep, only to freeze suddenly.

“d’Artagnan?” He gasped, blinking and sitting up in utter shock as his eyes focused on the young Gascon, pale and drawn, but awake.

_Awake!_

Before the boy could even open his mouth, Athos surged forwards and wrapped his arms around d’Artagnan half laughing and half crying.

Pulling away he gazed into d’Artagnan’s eyes, and the lad smiled.

“I'm so sorry, ‘Thos.” He croaked, reaching out with his weak arm to brush his cheek. “Please, I-”

Athos silenced him with a kiss before clasping his face in both hands and resting their foreheads together once more.

"Don't ever do that to me again- I can’t- I can't lose you- I- d'Artagnan I love you- you're perfect, wonderful, the only thing that keeps me going and- I- I can't lose you- Please- d’Artagnan you're not dependant- you're vibrant, talented, loyal, selfless- everything to me- you're not messed up, or ill- you’re surviving, fighting- d’Artagnan don't listen to Labarge- Please- don’t- don't let him win- you're hurt- let me- let me help you- I can't lose you- d’Artagnan…” He mumbled senselessly, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I won't let anyone hurt you again, I promise, I’ll protect you- I’ll-”

“Athos.” d’Artagnan breathed, easing himself upwards and pulling Athos close, stroking his face weakly. “I’m sorry...I’m here, I’m safe now. I’m here.”

Athos smiled with quivering lips and pulled d’Artagnan closer, pressing their lips together in a pretty sloppy kiss that was overlooked quickly by the relief that they were reunited.

“I can't live without you- d’Artagnan I’d follow you- I’d die for you.” The older musketeer gasped between kisses. 

d’Artagnan stopped abruptly. “Don't say that, Athos...you- you deserve more...if you died...I...”

Shaking his head Athos stroked d’Artagnan’s face gently. “Then stay with me?”

The questioning in his voice broke d'Artagnan's heart.

“I promise, Athos.” He smiled, pressing his lips against his lover's. “I promise.”

***


End file.
